


Look Up At The Storm

by Dagger_Kinzoku



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Dead Jaskier | Dandelion, Ghost Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Smut, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Sad Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25394095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dagger_Kinzoku/pseuds/Dagger_Kinzoku
Summary: After Jaskier's death, Geralt isn't taking it as well as he wants others to believe. The young bard was a good companion even if Geralt never admitted it, the silence that follows is crippling. Little does he know, Jaskier is hasn't left him completely but is stuck silently watching his best friend and almost lover destroy himself.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 155





	Look Up At The Storm

**Author's Note:**

> I thought of this while listening to Welly Boots by The Amazing Devil so if you look closely you can see some references to the lyrics. I don't have anyone to beta this so hopefully there aren't too many mistakes in here. Also this is my first time writing a fic in a long time so it will be slightly short and not the best.
> 
> Also I would like to thank @faekingsdomain for helping me out a bit with the ideas for this fic

A rustling in the bushes catches Geralt's attention, hopeful that it might be followed by a certain lark's chattering or the strumming of a lute. Unfortunately for him, it's only a raccoon who stares at him for a few moments before scampering off to a different place to forage. The white haired man sighs and looks back at the fire crackling lowly with a spit roasting two fish above it. 

When Jaskier was alive, Geralt had never worried or been upset by the loss of words or sounds because he knew eventually, Jaskier would come back and they would travel together for a few more weeks until splitting again. After learning about the flamboyant boy's death however, the silence was overwhelmingly loud compared to it's usual solace. Geralt began to miss not only the bard, but also the endless talking that came with him. The thought of never hearing Jaskier's voice again scared him so he did what anyone would do after learning their friend is dead, he kept some of Jaskier's items. His notebooks and lute, two of his signature items on account Geralt didn't see any use carrying around a bunch of too small doublets that only look good on a certain -now dead- bard. 

Nights when the silence became deafening, he would pull out the notebooks Jaskier protected at all costs, containing fragments of song, drawings, and other more personal things he did not bother to indulge Geralt in. Geralt would spend hours reading and re-reading them, tracing his fingers over the dried ink and humming bits of Jaskier's favorite songs. All the while Jaskier was watching from tree branches far above Geralt's head. Well, the ghost of Jaskier was watching Geralt from high in the trees, stuck silently watching his friend and almost lover internally destroy himself over his death. 

Geralt's grieving was starting to not only effect him on calm nights, his emotions showed through with the recklessness of his contracts and the amount of potions he would take. He would try to take on a nest of griffons by himself with a dangerous amount of potions flowing through his veins, by the end of the contract he would be just alive enough to drag himself back to camp or whatever backwater inn he was staying at for the night. Those nights, he would pass out as soon as he hit the bed and sometimes even before then. 

Jaskier would be stuck screaming silently, screaming for Geralt to listen to him and know that he isn't alone, screaming for someone to help his wolf. But no one heard him, no one that would or could help. Even so, Jaskier stayed with Geralt, watched over him in battles, watched him attempt and fail to get drunk on the watered down ale and mead offered at taverns, watched him run his fingers over the yellowing pages of the notebooks. While Jaskier knew the bullshit lessons Geralt had been taught about witchers not having feelings was in fact the most bullshit thing he had ever heard even before he had died, seeing his dearest friend slowly break down was almost worse. 

The white wolf was always good at hiding his emotions unless someone really looked and compared his behavior to how he usually is so it hurt Jaskier even more when normal people could see the difference in how Geralt was feeling. 

After a few more weeks of Geralt slowly breaking down, not even looking at the lute or notebooks because of the pain they cause to touch and see, the lute suddenly goes missing. Geralt is thrown into an icy panic, he didn't think losing anything but his swords would cause him to react the way that he does but after looking for the elven lute for hours, he returns to his room at the inn. Geralt pulls out Jaskier's favorite notebook, a thick leather bound volume with a simple J imprinted in the leather. He stares at it for an hour or two before tears begin to well up in his eyes and a choking lump forms in his throat, the tears run down his face, fat droplets landing and soaking through pages in the book. A broken sob makes its way out of Geralt's throat, throwing the book at the wall like it burned him, pages fluttering out and about the room while the journal lands with a heavy thump on the ground. Only moments after the first tears break the dam, Geralt is howling and sobbing his regret and guilt of every single hurtful thing he's said to Jaskier, not even getting a chance to apologize for his words on the top of that mountain. 

"I'm so sorry Jaskier, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, come back please, my light, I need you back," tumbles out uncontrollably from Geralt's lips as he curls into a ball on the ground.

Jaskier is stuck watching his wolf break, it hurts more than any heartbreak he's ever felt, even the harsh words on the mountain are no match for what he's witnessing right now. The bard spots a dried buttercup that fell out of his notebook when it's contents were strewn about and focuses on trying to move it towards Geralt. By some stroke of luck, he manages to move the buttercup in front of the crying witcher. He doesn't stop talking even though he knows Geralt can't hear him or feel him. His wolf continues crying and sobbing, hiccupping and coughing on particularly wet pleas. The storm of the witcher's emotions not anywhere close to being over even as his cries grow quieter over time until the hiccups turn into sniffling, Geralt slowly uncurls from his position, joints aching from being in an odd position for so long. He looks at the dried buttercup that wasn't in front of him when he started crying and gingerly picks it up, catching the faintest trace of lute oil and spring rains. Jaskier's scent. He slowly looks around the room after collecting the pages and placing them back as well as he can in the journal. He turns towards the bed to find a translucent figure of the notebook's owner sitting with his legs crossed holding the lute that caused this break down, looking down at him with a soft smile and tears in his eyes.


End file.
